


Flex

by alessandralee



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Drinking, F/M, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 09:45:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1300444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alessandralee/pseuds/alessandralee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A game of Truth or Dare gives Jemma the opportunity to appreciate Ward's body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flex

Jemma is pretty sure she could kill Skye right now. She's seated on the floor of the lounge, a half-empty bottle of beer to her left, and her recently discarded shirt on the right.

Truth or Dare is a silly game. It had been fun the first few times she’d played it at The Academy, but that had involved more combustible chemicals and less sitting around in her bra in front of Fitz, and Skye, and Ward. She would definitely be getting Skye back for this. And when Fitz sobered up from the vile concoction Ward had dared him to drink, she was pretty sure he’d be on board with her.

“Skye,” Fitz slurs, “truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

On one hand, Jemma's glad Skye isn't pushing her physical limits with a dare before she’d recovered properly, but on the other hand, she's also fairly certain that Fitz’s brain isn't capable of coming up with a decent revealing question given his drunken state.

“What is the highest security clearance you’d hacked?”

Jemma can see Ward roll his eyes from spot in front of the couch, and she feels similarly. It’s not that Skye’s story of hacking into an NSA database isn't interesting; it’s just that… okay it definitelyisn’t interesting. Even with the embellishment of the foot-chase through downtown Chicago that Jemma is fairly certain Skye made up on the spot.

“My turn now,” Skye squeals gleefully. The beers she’d had (despite Jemma’s firm reminder that she shouldn’t be mixing alcohol with the medications she’d been prescribed) make her speak more loudly than she probably intended.

“Ward, truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

He actually sounds bored. Granted, if she’d spent her night being dared to mix diet coke and Mentos, sing the alphabet backwards, and confess as to whether he’d cried with Agent May dumped him (no, he just accidentally beheaded a training dummy), she’d be bored too. Instead she's just shirtless and cold. She chugs the remains of her beer in an attempt to remedy that.

“I dare you to do 25 pull-ups,” clearly Skye’s imagination is failing her, “naked.”

Or not.

Without so much as an eyebrow raise, Grant stands up and heads for the doorway, pulling his shirt over his head as he walks. His back is towards them, and Jemma takes a moment to appreciate the muscles in his shoulders. Not for the first time, she acknowledges that he is physically ideal, his muscles well developed but still in proportion with his bone structure. He’s in perfect condition, except for the many scars that litter his skin. And she liked to think those scars gave him character.

She hears a low zipping noise and then his pants and underwear fall to the ground in one smooth movement. She can hear Fitz make a noise of distaste, and she assumes he’s averted his eyes. But she can’t check, her eyes are too busy examining the parts of his that she hasn’t seen laid out on her lab table. His bottom half is just as well formed as his top, though with decidedly fewer scars.

As he pulls himself up in the doorway, Jemma watches his muscles strain with effort. It’s almost too much to see at once, so many muscles flexing and relaxing as he performs the pull-ups Skye has requested. It’s unfortunate that he can do them so quickly, because she doesn’t have nearly enough to time study him. She briefly wonders if she could get him to do this in the lab, where the lighting is better.

He redresses, still facing away from them. It’s not until his pants are pulled back up that she’s able to tear her eyes away from him. When she does, she finds Skye grinning at her.

The other woman leans over and whispers to her.

“You’re welcome.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I let prompts sit in my inbox for three months before I come up with a decent way to fill them. This is one of those instances. Written for the prompt "truth or dare" from Anonymous.


End file.
